


Night Watch

by Plus1STR



Series: Night Watch [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Cartinelli - Freeform, F/F, Femslash, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plus1STR/pseuds/Plus1STR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie is forced to wake Peggy after hearing smashes from downstairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Watch

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Português brasileiro available: [Vigília](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4840919) by [Rosetta (Melime)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/pseuds/Rosetta)



“Pegs?” Angie whispered, hovering beside Peggy who had fallen asleep over some case files in the study. It wasn’t the first time Angie found her like this, head faced down and buried into her arms, and likely wouldn’t be the last. She always hated having to wake Peggy; the woman slept like the dead and was always a bit cranky when abruptly woken without a cup of tea to tide her over. But it was the middle of the night, there was no cup of freshly brewed tea, and the sole reason Angie was even awake at the ungodly hour was due to a loud smash that came from downstairs. A cranky, tea-less Peggy would have to forgive her later.

“Peg, ya gotta wake up, hun,” she whispered again, much closer to Peggy’s ear this time, hoping the sudden presence in her space would force Peggy to react. She placed a hand against Peggy’s back and rubbed small, soft circles into the fabric of her blouse.

Peggy grumbled quietly and peaked out from her arms; the one eye Angie could see was bloodshot, sporting dark circles beneath them, and, with the way Peggy’s brow was furrowed, Angie could tell she wasn’t pleased to see her.

“No.”

And that was that. Peggy turned her head the other way and screwed her eyes together tightly. Waking Peggy Carter was very much like waking a petulant child, but Angie was determined. After all, a sleep deprived Peggy was better than no Peggy at all considering the circumstances.

“I know you’re tired, but I think there’s someone downstairs.”

“So tell them to go away,” Peggy huffed indignantly, trying to bury her head further into her arms.

“I’m not sure I’ve got that kinda moxy, Peg.”

“Have you heard yourself yell in traffic?”

Angie’s hand traveled to the back of Peggy’s neck and her nails lightly scratched against the warm skin; though she’d never admit to it, that was Peggy’s weakness. “C’mon, Peg,” she spoke again, more demanding than the first time.

Peggy sat upright slowly; the sluggish movement was her own little act of defiance that started when her father would try to wake her up early on Saturday mornings. She turned to properly face Angie, an eyebrow cocked and still very clearly unhappy with being awoken. “What seems to be the problem?” Peggy’s voice came out raspy and low.

“I think—” Angie’s sentence was cut short by a smash much like the one that had initially woken her in the first place. “That. That is the problem.”  
Peggy rose from the chair, grabbing the pistol that was taped underneath the desk.

“Is that— please tell me you don’t have a buncha those all willy-nilly in the house.”

“Perhaps we might discuss this later?” Peggy murmured, carefully opening the door and peering out before stepping into the hallway; Angie followed closely behind and Peggy instinctively put her arm out in front of her every time she stopped moving.

The noises had become far more frequent and eventually led the pair just outside of the kitchen. From the archway, Peggy could hear a distinctly female voice; naturally her mind jumped to thoughts of the elusive Dottie Underwood, which only became all the more real when she peaked from the behind the molding to catch a glimpse of blonde hair. She gave Angie a curt nod, took in a deep breath, cocking the pistol, and quickly whipped herself into the kitchen. The sudden appearance earned a yelp not only from the blonde, but from her suitor as well, whose pants were down at his ankles.

“Oh, good god!” Peggy quickly turned back around, allowing Angie to see the mortified look that splayed across her face. Angie’s curiosity got the best of her as she peered into the kitchen, giving her enough time to catch Howard Stark hiking up his pants and his blonde acquaintance slipping off of the counter top. Both Angie and Peggy had now seen more of Howard Stark than either would have ever liked.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, no you’re not. He’s _your_ man-child. You deal with him.”

“Angie…”

Angie raised an eyebrow and lifted her chin. “Peggy.”

“ _Fine_.” Peggy exhaled loudly, turning to face the intruders. “Are you _quite_ finished, Howard?”

“Sorry ‘bout that, Peg,” Howard laughed and the sound was enough to make Peggy want to shoot him. “I forgot I gave this house up to you.”

“I’m sure you did,” Peggy panned out. In their first few months of living together, Howard often ‘forgot’ he signed over ownership of the manor to Angie and Peggy; it didn’t seem to matter how many time they changed the locks. He had ‘forgotten’ on six separate occasions, five of which ended with him being chased from his former home by Peggy and one being chased by Angie wielding a frying pan. Being hit with said frying pan is what set the record straight, or so it would have seemed.

“You wouldn’t shoot me, would ya, Peg?” Howard questioned, gesturing to the gun in Peggy’s hand. The thought had crossed her mind; Howard was the direct cause of her sleep being disrupted. Of course Peggy wouldn’t and he did know that, they were friends after all, but threatening Howard with various forms of bodily harm had become habitual.

“I’d shoot ‘em”,” Angie chimed in and Peggy snorted, trying to hold in a laugh. Angie wasn’t Howard’s biggest fan; while Angie always said it was nothing personal, claiming it was simply due to the distasteful way Howard publicly displayed himself, it was entirely personal. When Peggy hid him at the Griffith, Howard didn’t hesitate to bounce between the rooms and chat up every woman on the floor; every woman with the exception of Angie. The next morning when the women were sat at breakfast, all discussing the late night visitor, Angie had been completely out of the loop. Angie was never attracted to him, but she was always confident in her own looks, so to be passed up by Howard Stark— a known playboy— was disheartening to say the least. Little did she know, Peggy had threatened to slice Howard from stem to sternum if he so much as looked at Angie for too long. And while Howard enjoyed his escapades, he enjoyed having his lower extremities remain intact.

“Howard,” Peggy started, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just get out,” she said with a wave of her pistol. “It’s late and I’m far too knackered to think about the many ways you’ve defiled the kitchen counter.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I hadn’t gotten that far yet. It was just a little heavy—”

“Please stop talking,” Peggy interrupted. The longer she was awake, the more frustrated she became; Angie placed a calming hand against Peggy’s lower back, rubbing soothing circles, and she visibly relaxed. It was a gesture that Howard took note of and a knowing smirk spread across his face.

“Y’know, Peg, if you were busy, all you had to do was say so.” Howard was the only person Peggy told about her feelings for Angie. After everything she put her through, Peggy wasn’t sure how to make it up to Angie, let alone woo her, and Howard had jokingly offered the mansion as a gift; he didn’t expect Peggy to take him up on the offer, but he owed her a great debt and the house couldn’t even begin to cover it.

Peggy raised the pistol in her hand once more. “Howard,” she warned.

“Alright, alright.” Howard threw up a hand in defeat, taking the hand of his plus one in the other. “I’m going.”

He brushed past Angie and Peggy with the blonde in tow, on the path to the front door, but paused for a moment, and turned to face the two. “But if you ever feel like throwing someone else into the mix…” He waggled his eyebrows and Peggy cocked the pistol that was still raised.

“Goodnight, Mr. Stark.”

“Right. Night, Pegs.” Howard gave her a quick nod and glanced to Angie. “Miss Martinelli.”

“Fancy Senior,” Angie gave back with a glare.

Howard tossed an arm around his companion’s waist and pulled her along. “Say, you ever gotten a tour of the city from above?” His voice trailed off as he shut the front door behind them.

Peggy let out a sigh and slumped against Angie. “ _Now_ can we go to bed?”

“Alright, English,” Angie linked her arm with Peggy’s, pulling her along to the stairwell. If Peggy had it her way, she would have just slid onto the floor, propped herself against the cabinets, and called it a night. “I’ll make ya some tea in the morning.”

“Thank you, darling.” Peggy gingerly placed a kiss against Angie’s as they headed up the stairs.

“And then you can tell me all about the guns ya have around the house.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really am god awful at giving these things titles and summaries, huh?


End file.
